RPlog:Mandalore - Disturbing Delays
Glancing up from his bunk, Paul closes the aged book in his hands gingerly, the pages and binding clearly having seen better days. His eyes flicker over to the bunk next to his where Shen lies sleeping fitfully. His gaze shifts back, and in an attempt to leave her rest undisturbed, he rises slowly, walking slowly toward their visitor. Urio'kosh makes no further motion to proceed forth as he sees the Dr. stand and approach. He stands near the doorway, placing his hands behind his back and awaits. His gaze drifts from the approaching human male to the female asleep. To the well trained eye, Urio'kosh's expression shifts from his normal hard-lined stoic uncaring one to a more soft and gentle one. But as his gaze reverts back to the approaching figure, he shifts his weight upon his feet and re-asserts his couldn't-care-less expression. Still holding the leather sheathed tome in his hand, Paul slows as he nears the man. "Good evening," he murmurs in greeting, inclining his head in conjunction with his words. He considers the Mandalorian curiously, clearly a touch surprised by his presence, but waits patiently for clarification to be offered ... should he be so lucky. His head turns fractionally to look back at the sleeping redhead, perhaps to insure that she is -still- sleeping .... or perhaps because he cannot help but do so. Urio'kosh nods slightly towards the Dr. He offers the familiar Mandalorian greeting of "Nava Choi" to the Dr. He shifts his body so as to fully face the human. Not shifting his gaze from the Dr.'s, he says, "Would you mind stepping outside so that we do not disturb your companion while we speak." He does not make any motion to indicate the sleeping beauty, he does not even attempt to gaze once more in her direction. He keeps his gaze upon the Doctor, standing uneasily still. Shenner, indeed, dozes, though her face is creased by a small and anxious frown. Gesturing with one hand toward the doorway, Paul murmurs softly, "Certainly," waiting for the Mandalorian to lead the way. His gaze is steady, calm, without a hint of concern or uncertainty. Urio'kosh presses the controlling mechanism for the door and opens it up. He motions for the human to proceed outward. A slight frown crosses Nighman's brow, but with a philosophical shrug, he takes the first steps to leave the room and get this mysterious conversation under way. He manages to effectively stifle the urge to take another look back at the bunks against the far wall, heading out into the light. Urio'kosh walks out behind the human male. He turns so as to ensure the closing of the hangar door behind him. But as he does so, his gaze falls once more to the figure soundly asleep. He hesitates just for a moment as he stares before closing the door. Clearing his through, he turns and address Dr. Nighman. "We received an urgent communiquŽ just a few minutes ago. I was urged to inform you of its contents immediately." Urio'kosh folds his arms across his chest, drawing out the conversation even further, observing the human for its response. Paul doesn't miss that last glance back to Shen, but the Mandalorian's words are more arresting than his interest in the redhead. "Alright," he responds soberly. "I'm listening." His head cocks in interest, arms folding over his chest, trapping the journal there. Urio'kosh says in Mandalorian, "The Circle of Elders is currently holding a meeting. They are being urged to reconsider canceling the expedition you came here to embark upon. By first light, their decision will be made known." One brow raises curiously, not certain if he is surprised by the news that the expedition was going to be canceled, or by the fact that it is now being reconsidered. "If the Elders believe the expedition to be ... well, that it isn't important enough to continue with after all this effort by so many people, what, if I may ask, as brought on this change of process?" There is a slight pause as hazel eyes remain curious and direct, "Or perhaps the question should be, -who-." Urio'kosh directs his gaze away from the human. Instead he looks leftward to the horizon, and gazes upon the stars barely visible there. "There are those that believe this expedition is a fools quest, that nothing will be found. Furthermore, there are those that believe that nothing will be gained from this, even if something is found. They hold that the past is gone and all that remains is the now and what will come. there is no need to soil what which will be with the horror of what has been..." He trails off and turns to look once more upon the human, "Those are -who- you ask about. They are the one's who would see this expedition ended before it begins. The human's eyes remain steady on the Mandalorian before him, thoughtful. He seems to take a moment, as if there is much he would like to say and much he would like to ask, but he lets the leaves of his thoughts settle before raking them in. "When I was first asked to come, I was skeptical at best. Most sites either yield little or nothing due to the ravages to time and races. Later, I began to suspect, to wonder ... and for a scientist, that is enough to want to look. Now, I am willing to believe and ready to be disappointed. In some ways I am anxious to be wrong ... because I fear the consequences if I am right. However, regardless of -what- I find, this journey is important -because- it is revealing Mandalore's past. There is no way to build a future without a foundation .... if you don't know what's underneath you, you will never know how to fortify against it ... how to strengthen and fix the soil from which you all spring, whether willingly or not." Glancing over at the horizon, the barren landscape, Paul asks bluntly, "If the -who- are those who would stand in the way of making Mandalore stronger for her mistakes, then -what- is it that allows them to question their plans?" Urio'kosh looks to the xenoarcheologist, "You, a self-proclaimed scientist, should know the answer to that question readily..." His voice trails off. After a few seconds, he utters slowly in a low husky tone, "Fear...." He does not move or sway as he speak, remaining perfectly still in his adopted stance, "Fear still lingers in every Mandalorian's heart, fear that one misstep will bring everything we have accomplished in these past few decades crashing down. No one want to relive the suffering my people endured in the past. And yet, here we stand today, on the verge of bringing that very past back for into our midst, perhaps only in the words of legend, but then again what if...." "What if .... " Paul echoes softly with a somber nod. "I do understand ... Mandalore's history is not my own, but I have seen many cultures struggle to rebuild from a shattered past. What I fear, and I think it is a greater concern, is that if the past is left to lie undisturbed at this time where great care is being taken not to repeat it ... it is there, rotting and fetid for your future to discover, to use, to corrupt, and to make all of the same mistakes all over again." Shifting his arms, dropping them to his sides, Paul's right hand clenches about the tome held there. "In order to rebuild, the past must be faced and dealt with, otherwise it will only continue to overshadow everything you have strove for." Urio'kosh says, "But this comes as no surprise to me. This attempt to dissuade the Elders of allowing this expedition has been discussed for weeks, even prior to your arrival. Yet even I didn't expect it to be carried out so soon. Perhaps it is more than coincidence that the meeting was convened almost as soon as word of his arrival was received." This time the questions tumble forth before he can consider them and decide upon their proper order. Leaning forward, the hazel eyes narrow with interest as he queries, "Then the Elders were initially in -favor- of the expedition? Or were they not consulted in the first place and it was only recently brought to their attention? They were split?" Then there is a pause as Paul considers the last thing that Urio said, and rocking back slightly, he asks, "Who has arrived?" Urio'kosh says, "I will address your question in the turn you presented them. The Elders sanctioned this expedition, albeit reluctantly, against much opposition. But as the cycles passed and there was no word as to if it was indeed to be carried out, the opposition has been lobbying for the Circle of Elders to withdraw their approval. And it is not surprising that they would have re-doubled their efforts in the last hours and called the Elders to convene and listen to their arguments on last time...one last time before Grathix of Stur'ttrakath arrives." It's hard to tell what the Corellian thinks of that statement. His eyes flicker subtly, part in acceptance with a hint of surprise, and with a strange mingling of relief and increased concern. "He's free then," he murmurs softly. Looking down at the soil beneath his feet, Nighman sighs before raising his gaze once again. "Will he be given the opportunity to speak before the Elders reach their final decision?" Urio'kosh shakes his head, "No, he will arrive upon the latter part of the day. The Elders will have made their decision by then." Nighman opens his mouth to say one thing, but then halts, closing it briefly before asking an entirely different question. "Where do -you- stand in all of this?" Urio'kosh says, "My position in the matter is not in question, here, Doctor Nighman. I am here to prepare this expedition and guide it to its ultimate consequences, regardless of what you or anyone else says. That is where I stand and that is what I will do." The Corellian considers the Mandalorian hard, dissecting the words carefully before replying. "Then, on your honor, you are here to lead this expedition should it be approved? To aid it's members in the recovery of whatever artifacts we can find?" Sighing softly, Paul draws a hand back through his hair, the golden brown strands shifting and ruffling lightly with the passage. "You see, I am in a delicate position here ... because other than Dane and Kairne, there is no one that I trust here to be honest with me. After all, I'm only human ... barely tolerable by Mandalorian standards. If you are here to aid the expedition, to make it a success, then I am grateful. However, I do not know -who- you answer to ... which side of the equation. That is why your position in this -does- matter. It -has- to matter." Urio'kosh says, "Perhaps it does matter, Doctor, but it matters only to you. I am not here to baby-sit you, or tell you everything will be alright, or to assuage your fears. If we will find what you say we will, then you have better things to worry about than my presence....but make no mistake about it Doctor, my presence will be there through it all. I will face whatever you face." The man's face hardens, the eyes grow colder and there is a moment of silence before he replies. "If you think I'm asking for my hand to be held, then you do not understand me at all. I doubt you understand anything about other races, and that will most likely prove to be Mandalore's downfall yet again. You are already following in your ancestors footsteps." Taking a breath, Paul walks past the Mandalorian toward the door of the hangar, not even addressing him to his face. "Your presence will be there, that much I already knew. As for what you face, I doubt it will be anything like what I will face. Beyond that, I don't think we have anything else to say to one another." He stops at the door, considering the lock for a moment. It was never sealed against him before, but that doesn't mean it isn't now. He reaches forward to open the door, half expecting it to refuse his actions. Urio'kosh turns about, giving his back to Dr., Nighman, "Good night Doctor. Rest peacefully." is all he states as he begins to make his way towards another hanger. Opening the door, Paul enters back into the small hangar, his grim expression hidden from the Mandalorian's view as they move away in opposite directions. He allows the door to close behind him, leaning against a wall and smacking his forehead with one palm. "Great Mr. Ph.D. .... now he knows -exactly- where you stand and what to expect from you, and what have you got? Zilch! You should just resign your commission right now and get work scrubbing floors or something." Glancing over toward the still silent bunks, the Corellian indulges himself in a moment of weakness, sliding down the length of the wall and dropping his head to his knees, sighing deeply in frustration. One of the bunks might be silent, but it's not unoccupied; Shenner is sitting up on it, and as Paul enters the room, she stares quietly at him, her gaze pensive. "Paul?" Shenner's voice is soft as she calls out into the darkened room, and reserved, restrained... wary. The bowed head snaps up, and something is very sharply and softly uttered, with the cadence and tone of an expletive. There is a brief moment where the Corellian considers just staying where he is, but that will only invite weakness. Pushing up and off from the floor, Paul's steps are strong and determined as he strides over to where Shen is sitting. Leaning one arm against the wall, the other settles on one hip, his head askew to one side as he glances down at Shen. "Hey, what are you doing awake? You've hardly slept at all." "I couldn't get comfortable," Shenner admits bluntly, though without too much embarrassment. Her voice is soft and gruff. "'Sides... heard you leave, was a bit worried." Shrugging negligently, Paul mutters, "We just didn't want to disturb you .... it seems like the Elders are being encouraged to cancel our little trip ... and the forces against us want to convince them before Grathix, who is apparently on his way, can arrive and place his case before them." Although is tone is light, almost conversational, there is a rough burr in the back of his throat, as if he were clenching or was coming down with something. "Ah, farkin' great," Shen mutters. There's a noise of her shifting, rising off the bunk, and she draws nearer to Paul in the darkness, but only near enough to lean against the wall near the sound of his voice. "So we know what side our host's on, yet?" "I'm afraid that diplomacy and espionage are -not- my strong points ... I probably revealed more than I gained," he mutters a touch derisively. "I'm not even sure -who- is our host here .... The only people I have clue -one- about on this venture is you, me, and Dane. Kairne is pretty close ... I don't think he'll actively betray us, but I still don't know where his interests and allegiance lie." There is the soft sound of the man shifting in the dark, turning so his back now leans against the wall. This is followed by the soft plop as the book that had been gripped so tightly before is tossed to his bunk. Shen is silent as Paul speaks, and for a few beats afterwards. Then, at last, she murmurs, "Huh. Well, looks like the Plan's still in effect, then. Mouth shut, eyes open, hand on the blaster, and shoot anything comin' at us." She sounds almost wry, without any sign of nervousness in her voice. Nodding in the darkness, Paul's eyes gleam slightly, narrowing. "Yeah ... I should start following my own advice." Passing a hand through his hair, his eyes suddenly focus on Shen intently, his thoughts clearly running through some process before he blinks and pushes off from the wall, settling himself down on his bunk, staring out into the increasing black of their surroundings. "Well... so," Shen says softly into the gloom, her form better distinguishable as vision adjusts. "You wanna take watch or shall I?" The head turns, eyes still narrow and a frown marring his brow. Paul finally mutters, "Your call." The bardling considers, then, perhaps surprisingly, confesses, "Guess it better be you... I'm jumpy and that's a piss-poor state to be on watch. 'Less you're jumpier 'n' I am, I guess... You wanna go two shifts of four hours, or should we do two hours, yah think?" The eyes don't stray, but there is a strange light in them - something thought but not spoken. "Four hour ... otherwise we won't be worth a damn .... if one of us can't keep up for the whole four, they can always wake the other early." There is a short pause before he adds, "I don't think we need to worry much now ... nothing is likely to happen to us here and now. Besides, everyone seems to be partial to you." There's a faint flash around Shen's mouth, as the girl smirks. "Yeah? Funny, I coulda sworn nobody around here except you and Dane thought I had any right to be here." She blows out a breath and flops back down onto her spartan bunk. With just a touch less bravado to her voice, she promises, "I'll try to get to sleep." The Corellian doesn't expand on his comment, but watches as Shen settles down on the bunk. Despite his better judgment, he rises from his bunk, standing next to Shen's and looking down at her. Dropping to his haunches, he reaches over, touching her brow lightly, pushing a loose tendril aside. Shen smiles wanly at that touch to her brow, lifting her hand instinctively towards Paul's fingers. Her hand hesitates a moment, closing only briefly around Paul's, and trembling slightly. Then, as if embarrassed, she starts to duck her hand away. Moving quickly, Paul catches that hand firmly, tightly, his eyes locked to Shen's reassuringly. Despite his assertions to the contrary, he raises that hand, turning it over. He holds it still like that for a moment, then drops a kiss to Shen's open palm before raising his gaze to her's again. "Sleep," he commands gently, "I'll be sitting right here." Her intake of breath isn't very audible, but it's sharp enough to be detected, all the same. And her voice is a touch rougher, a burr somewhere in the back of _her_ throat, now, as she promises, "I will, Paul. Don't forget to wake me up, okay?" Her hand clings to his, her grip tightening unconsciously at his tender gestures. "I won't," he assures her, returning the grip. The hazel eyes are bright, but shuttered, as if he were filtering out certain thoughts. Leaving his arm lying on the bunk close to her, Paul settles against it's side until he is comfortably seated, his gaze shifting to consider the darkness, as if it might tell him something of vital importance. The girl shifts herself, then settles again, her slender hand still gripping the Corellian's larger one. _He's here,_ she thinks to herself, and even if she can't exactly curl up in his arms, even if she can't whisper her worries into his ear, the touch of his hand is comfort of a sort. Shen remains quiet, and after a time, her breathing finally slows and deepens. The Corellian keeps Shen's hand firmly in the grip of his own, even after her fingers slacken as sleep overtakes her. It's ironic how their needs are becoming more and more intertwined, even if neither of them is aware of it. Turning back to her face now that it is safe to do so, Paul's features twist uncomfortably, and leaning over he drops a tender kiss at the corner of her eye. He hovers for a moment, wanting far more from her ... and from himself. Slumping back down in self denial, he continues to watch her face fretfully, feeling his control over the situation they have found themselves in slipping away grain by grain. She might have strove for bravado in her spoken words, but now that Shenner slumbers, her face seems younger in the darkness, vulnerable, worried. The girl sighs, a bare breath of an exhalation, at the feather-light kiss... and she sleeps on, as the hours begin to creep by, apparently oblivious to Paul's immediate worries, yet frowning in her sleep with worries of her own. Though his face rests close to hers, the Corellian doesn't sleep, his ears alert on their environment even if his eyes are not. The other free hand occasionally reaches up to brush aside a stray lock or to trace the girl's features with a feather light touch so as not to wake her. At first his thoughts run over and over the same track, berating himself for bring her, for letting things go this far, for being such an idiot, for saying too much ... but after awhile the soundtrack strays, fretting about all of the strings that have become unraveled in his life ... Mandalore, Jessa, his father, Alx, the Bolt... After awhile it becomes a blur and reaching over with one hand, Paul shakes Shen's shoulder gently, as he realizes they are slipping toward the sixth hour. She snaps awake, murmuring huskily, "Paul? 'Smy watch?" "Mmmm-hmmmm," he agrees somewhat groggily, releasing the hand he had held for so long and gingerly pressing against the bunk to aid his rise from the floor. Shuffling over a few steps he sits down heavily on his own bunk, lying down only a moment later. Shenner slips up to her feet, stretching, moving almost unthinkingly after Paul. She glances at the palely glowing digits of her chrono, and frowns -- six hours, not four, have elapsed. But she doesn't protest, and instead, simply leans over Paul's bunk and pauses... then, she leans down very close to his ear and whispers -- in Corellian -- "Sleep well, k'chaiya..." The eyes flutter open and something intelligible is muttered in return before they drift closed, the head burying itself against his pillow and arm. The Corellian's back rises and falls with his ever deepening breaths. Mandalore - Disturbing Delays